


The Effect of a Lack of Refrigerative Environment on Detective Daniel M. Williams

by minou_demimonde



Series: Goldilocks and the Lack of Refrigeration [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-11
Updated: 2012-08-11
Packaged: 2017-11-11 22:43:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/483679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minou_demimonde/pseuds/minou_demimonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just that I wasn’t aware that we had a sleepover planned</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Effect of a Lack of Refrigerative Environment on Detective Daniel M. Williams

**Author's Note:**

> For Kaige68 and Haldoor. Kaige68 would have beta read the thing if I'd let her, so don't blame her for anything. It's all me.

****

**As reported by Lt. Cmdr. Steven J. McGarrett, USN, Res.**

 

  
So Steve wakes quite happily one morning after what is possibly the best night of sleep he’s had since before Annapolis. He feels good. Really good. He’s warm, but not too warm. He’s comfortable. Nothing hurts, not even his head, which is kind of surprising, because almost every morning, he wakes with some kind of a headache.  
  
But nope, nothing hurts. He’s settled nicely into his little nest of blankets and bed, soft hair brushing against his neck and chin, warm arms wrapped tightly around him, head on his chest. Gentle snuffling and rooting into his neck. Yeah. This is the life. A good, sweet, slow wake-up.  
  
Except for the fact that he went to bed so very much _alone_. Without so much as a breath mint to cloud his judgement. You’d have thought that he would have remembered something like this.  
  
Steve’s almost afraid to open his eyes. He’s trying to tell who it is by feel and smell alone. He knows it isn’t Catherine. Not only does he know where she is--which isn’t here--Catherine is not a morning snuggler.  
  
And this? This is totally snuggling. Full-on _cuddling_ is going on here.  
  
Uh. Well...  
  
He’s not quite sure what to do here. This is not a situation that has ever occurred before. Steve’s been too well trained to let that one happen. Even when absolutely and completely drunk out of his mind, Steve has always known who was in bed with him when he woke up the next morning.  
  
This. Is. So. Not. Good.  
  
Except that it is. This is perfect. This feels absolutely and completely wonderful. And Steve’s never been a cuddler. Not even when he was a kid. His Mom used to complain that she couldn’t get any sugar out of him. Now here he is, no clue who is in his arms, happy as a bee with an entire field of clover and no other bees in sight.  
  
So he doesn’t want to open his eyes, because when he does, the moment will fade, and he’ll have to actually face the person who has invaded his house and his bed and his arms. And Steve is really concerned about this, because you’d have thought he’d wake up. Steve sleeps so lightly that his neighbor clearing his throat can wake him.  
  
The neighbor that lives _four doors down_.  
  
Which means that either he was drugged, which he supposes is possible, because that would perhaps account for the delicious feeling of complete rest that he has, or there’s something else at play here.

  
The drug supposition has another point going for it. The sun is fully up. Steve hasn’t slept this late since he took three to the chest and had to be helicoptered out of an op. And he was really, really well drugged that time.  
  
But this has no drug-like after-effects. Steve has never done well with the drugs people use to induce sleep. They’ve always left him logy and sore. But there’s no sense of that here. He just plain feels good.  
  
Happy.  
  
Well. Shit.  
  
He’s going to have to open his eyes.  
  
But first, let’s see what he can find out by using his other senses.  
  
Touch reports that the person in his arms is solid. Warm. Heavy. Muscled.  
  
And isn’t _that_ a kicker? Because Steve has never, ever taken a stroll on the wild side. And it’s not just because of DADT. He just really never wanted to. Curves were always nice in his opinion.  
  
But Steve isn’t minding this. No, this is nice. Sweet. Loving. ( _Where the hell did that come from?_ )  
  
This person is smaller than he is. He can feel a pair of feet snugged up under his calves. It’s kind of nice, having their feet there, holding him close in yet another way. Even the neediest of the women he’s slept with have always kept their feet separate. Most people do. Most people like having one foot out of the covers, and feel claustrophobic if both of their feet are trapped. But apparently there is no issue here, because both feet are buried safely under his legs.  
  
He can feel their leg hair brushing against his legs. He can also, thank heavens, feel their boxers and t-shirt, so obviously he didn’t miss anything of a sexual manner. Which, well, if that ever happens, he’d really like to be conscious for it.  
  
The guy is wrapped pretty tightly around him. This isn’t spooning. Spooning can happen no matter who the people in the bed are. It’s kind of a natural thing. A way of sharing warmth. And yes, there may be sexual overtones in certain situations, but Steve’s racked in with enough of his fellow SEALs to know that spooning is just a natural human reaction.  
  
Wrapping yourselves so tightly in each others’ arms that you can’t really tell where you end and they begin? Not so much. That’s...intimate. Maybe even more intimate than sex, because while you can have sex with a lot of people, you wouldn’t want to hold them like this; cradle them in your arms until the sun rises and forces you to wake.  
  
And it’s not just that this guy has got him pretty tight, what with his arms wrapped around him and his feet tucked under Steve’s legs. He’s also got one knee tucked between Steve’s, and the entirety of his chest is draped over Steve. The guy’s head is up against Steve’s neck so his nose can nuzzle into his throat.  
  
And Steve is not complaining. This would normally drive him _insane_. Absolutely and completely bonkers. But no, he’s got his arms wrapped pretty tightly around this guy, too. He’s not letting go anytime soon. He can feel the warmth of the man in his arms; the weight of him. And it feels like home.  
  
Touch also tells him that the guy’s hair is soft. Very soft. There’s no product involved here, just soft sweet curls. It feels freshly washed. It’s not wispy, though. This is an adult’s hair. It’s just not coarse like some hair is wont to be. He can feel a few strands on his chin, but most of it is buried in his neck. Soft and warm.  
  
Smell kicks in and there’s something about the warm, definitely masculine scent that he recognizes. He’s just not sure what the context is. Obviously he knows this person. And that’s a comfort. He’d hate to think that just _any_ guy could break into his house--he verified the alarm twice, thank you--trundle up his staircase, which has _three_ squeaky stairs, and climb into bed with him. And then proceed to wrap himself utterly and completely up in Steve.  
  
The scent is gentle and comforting, like sun-warmed blankets. The smell of the man is a warm, clean scent. Something he would associate with happiness if he had to name it. (And apparently he has an innate sappiness that he never knew existed, as well as an ability to sleep through something like this, because he’s never in his life had _these_ thoughts before. Hmm. Drugging’s beginning to sound better than ever, because it would explain so _much_.)  
  
Taste has him slipping his tongue out for a slight taste of skin on the guy’s forehead. Just a tiny taste. Nothing that would wake the guy, because that means it’s all over and reality has to be faced.  
  
He tastes...clean. Good. Like somebody Steve would like to kiss.  
  
Not that _that_ is going to ever happen, though. _There are limits here_.  
  
Hearing gives him little except for little snuffling noises occasionally, and a slight shifting of the sheets once in awhile. Neither of them are moving, which is not Steve’s style. He’s usually a light enough sleeper to be tossing and turning all night. But he gets the feeling that the two of them have been happily wrapped in each other in just this spot for a long time.  
  
His brain comes finally online enough to tell him that there is a good probability that the man in his arms is Danny.  
  
It’s the only possible solution. Danny is the only one that he trusts enough to sleep through something like this. He always slept better with Danny in the house, when he could get Danny to sleep. But this is _not_ the same thing as having him down on the couch.  
  
And isn’t _that_ an interesting development?  
  
What does this mean? Steve could honestly say he would have never imagined holding anybody close like this, let alone his grumpy, _male_ , partner. But it feels good. Really good. Like something that should happen every single day from here on out. Like a permanent thing.  
  
Like a marriage kind of thing.  
  
 ** _Where the hell did that come from?_**  
  
Apparently there has been a serious lack of oxygen to his brain due to the fact that Danno is laying directly on him. That, and the drugs that were obviously slipped into something he consumed yesterday, are the only explanation for his thoughts this morning.  
  
Huh. Didn’t think Danno had it in him.  
  
Well. Ok.  
  
It’s moments like that that remind us exactly why the Chinese curse of living in interesting times means so very much. This? _This_ is an interesting time.  
  
Now that his brain has established that it’s most likely Danny in his arms, his senses of touch and taste and smell tell him that it’s something he should have recognized immediately. It’s just that this is so very _unexpected_. Nice. But very, very unexpected.  
  
Whatever. He tightens his arms around Danny and settles into the bed just a bit more. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to go back to sleep, but he’s good like this. For a while more, at least.  
  
“Will you stop licking me? I’m trying to sleep here.”  
  
Well that didn’t last long.  
  
He moves to release Danny and sit up when Danny pushes him back to the bed. “Hey. Still. Sleeping. Here.”  
  
He relaxes back into the bed and allows Danny to wrap his arms around him tightly again. “So, do you want to tell me what you’re doing here?”  
  
“I’m sleeping, Steven. I thought I mentioned that before. I would like to continue sleeping if you’d just shut up and let me.”  
  
“It’s just that I wasn’t aware that we had a sleepover planned.”  
  
Danny huffs against his neck. “My air conditioning went out last night. It’s hot. You have good air conditioning. I came over.”  
  
“You don’t smell like you were miserably hot. In fact, you smell like you're freshly showered. And the couch is downstairs. Mary’s room is empty. My old room is empty. There are beds in both of them. Yet here you are.”  
  
“Are you complaining?”  
  
“No. Just wondering.”  
  
“I came over, took a shower, and here I am. If you’re not complaining, then shut up and let me sleep. I’m tired. And I’m truly comfortable for the first time in over three years. So shut up. Lay back. And let. Me. Sleep.”  
  
Faced with such an unbeatable argument, Steve does. Because he really can’t argue with a guy who could break into his house, come up his stairs, use his shower, and then come and cuddle with him, all without waking him up. There could be serious things going on here. They’ll have to explore that idea. Later.  
  
Shortly thereafter, he finds himself drifting off again, something that hasn’t happened in longer than he can remember. It’s nice.  
  
As he fades out, he thinks that he’ll have to find a way to explain to Danny that this is going to happen every single day from here on out for the rest of their lives. But he’ll worry about that in a while. After they sleep a bit more.


End file.
